


Teach Me

by prescellphone



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fighting, Love, Shaving, Short Stories, and strip poker, changing the oil in a car, gallya, its all good fun, learning russian, prompt, we got some cooking, yes shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prescellphone/pseuds/prescellphone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 different scenes where Illya and Gaby teach each other some skill. 3 for Illya and 3 for Gaby.</p><p>Music: Electric Feel by Henry Green</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shaving

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing like this where I have an overarching idea and then I split it up into different stories. It's too much fun and I'm able to do some serious ones and then some fun ones.
> 
> Also, I never get tired of Napoleon cock-blocking and then being a little shit about it.

* * *

 

        It was a warm Sunday morning and Gaby was bored. The last mission hadn't run smoothly, so Waverly had given Napoleon, Illya and her a weekend to fully heal their bruises and in Napoleon’s case, wounded egos. This of course led to a drunken Friday evening between Gaby and Napoleon, leaving Illya to drag them home and make sure they survived the night. Napoleon’s attitude still hadn’t improved even after all the alcohol.

        So Saturday had been easily spent with Gaby recovering under the covers on her bed for most of the day, watching Napoleon and Illya bicker from their seats across the room from each other. The former with a newspaper held up to cover the dark bruising across his cheekbones and the latter playing a one-handed game of chess while nursing a sprained wrist. Gaby had been thoroughly entertained as she slid in and out of sleep throughout the day, always waking up before fists could be thrown and shouting about her precious sleep being interrupted. 

        Now Sunday was completely different. Gaby had woken to a non-hungover Napoleon cooking breakfast and a compliant Illya sitting at the round table in the small kitchen. The breakfast was eaten in comfortable silence and the three of them went their separate ways afterwards. Illya sat in front of his chessboard, Napoleon went downstairs to bug some lucky girl, and Gaby walked over to the couch where she draped herself dramatically. Illya and her spent the next couple of hours in silence except for Gaby’s over exaggerated sighs. 

        After flipping through all the magazines in reach, Gaby resorted to watching Illya move the chess pieces slowly, playing against himself. She wasn't sure how he thought it was at all fun, but she found herself enjoying the view. He had a habit of running his hand across his jaw before making any move and his eyebrows would scrunch together when he reached a tough choice. He was so lost in the game, he didn’t even notice Gaby’s gaze.

        Gaby had been studying Illya's hands, appreciating the way his knuckles shifted every time he flexed, when Napoleon returned from his sexual escapade. Gaby quickly picked up a magazine as Napoleon made a sandwich in the kitchen. He returned and after tapping Gaby's legs to move, he sat next to her on the couch. 

        The three of them didn't speak, the only noise being that of Napoleon eating, Illya moving a chess piece, and Gaby fake-reading the magazine in front of her. 

        Napoleon muttered crossly, "Well this is fun."

        Gaby rolled her eyes from behind the magazine but agreed wholeheartedly. She was just about to reply when Illya stood up, his game finished on the board. Both Gaby and Napoleon watched as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door halfway. 

        Finishing his sandwich gradually, Napoleon crossed his legs and read the newspaper. Gaby dropped her magazine onto the table, the smacking sound filling the air. Napoleon didn’t look up. With a petulant look, Gaby dug her feet into Napoleon's thigh. He successfully ignored her until Gaby stabbed her heel sharply onto a hidden bruise. 

        Napoleon seized her foot with a glower, "Go bug Illya if you're bored."

        Gaby frowned. Napoleon didn't use that tone of voice often. Maybe the sex wasn't that good this morning. Or maybe the sandwich sucked. Either way, Gaby took his advice and strolled over to the bathroom. Inside, Illya stood in front of the mirror, shaving cream covering his jaw and cheeks. Leaning on the door, she watched him try to shave with one hand. Obviously frustrated, Illya huffed out a breath as his hand hovered over his cheek.

       "Can I help?" Gaby stepped into the bathroom. 

        Illya shared a hopeless look with her in the mirror before nodding reluctantly. With a smile, Gaby jumped up onto the counter in front of him and took the razor from his hand. She looked at where he had started next to his ear and paused.

       "I've never done this before, so you're going to have to help me."

       "Great," Illya breathed out.

        Gaby growled, "I'm  _so_  sorry, do you want me to tell you that I've shaved some other man's face? I mean, I have to shave way more than you guys anyway, so how hard can it be?"

        She could barely make out his smirk underneath the shaving cream, "Fine. Start here and go slow. This is my face, not your leg."

        Shifting closer to Illya, Gaby nodded before placing the razor next to where he had started, "Okay, I got this."

       "Wait, other way, shave the other way." Illya let out a sigh as Gaby grinned nervously. She had yet to move the razor and she wasn't sure if she wanted to anymore.

       "Sorry."

        Flipping the razor over, Gaby took a deep breath and slid the razor up his cheek, parallel with his ear. Done with one stroke, Gaby examined her handiwork and smiled. This wasn't too hard. Cleaning out the blade, she started again. 

        Gaby could hear Napoleon moving around in the other room as she worked, but for once wasn't interested in what he was doing. She was kind of enjoying this simple task. 

        Watching her work, Illya felt warmth bloom in his chest when Gaby stuck out her tongue, her eyes concentrated on the line of his jaw. He was about to ask her to stop so he could order his thoughts, when he felt a small knick along the last part of his jaw. The pleasant feeling was lost instantly and Illya lowered his head to met her guilty eyes.

        She grimaced, "Nothing happened." 

       "Mm-hmm." Illya rolled his eyes before leaning his head back as she continued along his jaw. While she cleaned out the razor, her fingers lingered along his smooth cheek. Illya didn’t say anything when she hurriedly pulled them away, her cheeks a dusty pink.

        After shaving his upper lip and chin with a smirk, Gaby moved to the other side of his face, her movements quicker and more comfortable. Illya prepared himself as she reached his jaw. He shut his eyes when he felt the soft sting of a cut. Biting her lip, Gaby avoided his glare by pushing his head back so she could finish. 

        Tapping the razor against the sink to clean it out, Gaby leaned back to appreciate the final product. With an exasperated look, Illya pushed against her hips, making her scoot over so he could wash off his face. When he stood back up, he dried his face and tapped aftershave against his skin lightly. He grimaced when the substance touched the small spots where Gaby had cut him.

       "I think I did a good job." Gaby crossed her arms.

      "Sure," Illya muttered sarcastically.

       Gaby pushed him back so she could leap down, "It was my first time!"

       Illya let her glare up at him, "You've been shaving for years."

      "That doesn't count and you look fine," Gaby replied, her glare not lasting long against Illya’s blue eyes. She turned away, a knowing grin on her face, "It doesn’t matter much anyway, I like it better when you don't shave."

       Illya would remember that for next time.

 

 


	2. Learning Russian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 different scenes where Illya or Gaby teach each other some skill. 3 for Illya and 3 for Gaby.
> 
> Music: Girl From the North Country by Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, etc.

* * *

 

        When Gaby was first teamed up with Napoleon and Illya, she had felt confident in her ability to keep up with them. Now of course, her physical form had a lot of limitations, such as reaching the top shelf in the kitchen or having to jog sometimes to keep up with Illya’s long strides. But despite that, she was able to play a game of chess against Illya without losing horribly and with a background in ballet school, she had a somewhat artistic side that could rival Napoleon’s overconfident remarks on artwork.

        However, since Gaby had been behind the Iron Curtain her entire life, she had been unable to learn multiple languages. This bugged her most. Illya spoke in his native tongue often, whether it was mutterings to himself or phrases directed at Gaby. Napoleon always grinned, obviously knowing what Illya had said to her, but Gaby could only blink her eyes and hope one of them explained. They never did.

        Napoleon didn’t speak other languages normally, but whenever he had too much to drink or had slept with some foreign girl, he fell into a routine of forgetting English. With what sounded like gibberish to Gaby spewing out of his mouth, Napoleon was able to pull a smile from Illya from time to time.

        Gaby was getting tired of it. She was evidently missing many jokes (which she was sure were about her) due to her inability to only speak English and German.

         So late one evening after hearing yet another string of Russian and Napoleon’s chuckle, Gaby stomped over to Illya and pushed his chessboard to the ground.

         She placed herself in the same spot, facing him, and said, “Teach me Russian.”

         Illya gave her quizzical look and Gaby could hear Napoleon snort lightly into his scotch. Gaby glared at him from over her shoulder before turning back to Illya.

        “I mean it. I need to learn other languages eventually and no one is more Russian than you.”

        Napoleon stood up, “You got that right. But it’s actually not a bad idea.”

        Gaby sat up straighter, her eyes pleading with Illya.

        Pressing two fingers to his temple, Illya sighed, “Fine. But it’s not easy.”

        She rolled her eyes, “Spare me the lecture, Illya.”

       “Fine. You know the basics, right?”

       “Да.” Gaby smiled.

       “You’re a true master,” Napoleon chortled. Gaby smacked his arm as he passed by to refill his drink. Napoleon muttered a few quick words under his breath. Illya smirked as he sipped his drink.

       Gaby’s mouth was wide open as she scowled at Illya, “This is why I need you to teach me! I hate not knowing what you’re talking about!”

       “Trust me, Gabes, you don’t want to know,” Napoleon shook his head slowly.

       “Illya,” Gaby said his name gently, her eyes begged. Napoleon rolled his eyes as Illya’s self-control crumbled.

        Illya leaned forward, his ears red, “Alright. We’ll start out easy.”

 

        Within a couple weeks, Gaby was stringing together full sentences. They were pretty simple, mostly questions or words she would need on a mission, but she was feeling proud of herself. She could finally understand Illya’s frequent low mutterings, which she found out were horrific curse words. Sometimes, Gaby wished she couldn’t decipher the words.

        At first, the lessons were tedious and Napoleon laughed at her pronunciation every time she spoke, but soon she looked forward to them. Napoleon always got bored a few minutes into the lesson and would leave the room, letting Gaby relax. She liked it better when it was just her and Illya anyway.

        When they were alone, she began to notice how comfortable Illya looked when he spoke Russian, his eyes softer and voice lower. And whenever she mastered a particularly difficult phrase, Illya always smiled humbly, making Gaby want to repeat the words over and over just to see the kind look again.

        Eventually, the jokes between Illya and Napoleon ceased whenever Gaby was in the room. She had thought that was what she wanted, but in fact, it bugged her more, knowing they were now making jokes behind her back. Gaby had thought with Russian learnt, she would finally be able to shut down the jokes, but it was impossible when she wasn’t present for them.

        So the lessons began to spoil her mood. Illya didn’t pick up on her sour attitude until one day she interrupted him mid-sentence by calling him a dick.

        Switching back to English, Illya turned to her with a perplexed frown, “What?”

        Gaby crossed her arms and repeated herself.

       “Ok, why?” Illya twisted on the couch so he could face her.

        She felt frustrated beyond belief when he questioned her so calmly. Searching her mind for a way to put the words all together in Russian, Gaby finally gave up and huffed out a breath.

       “What do you and Napoleon joke about?”

        Illya shifted as Gaby watched him with curious eyes, “Nothing.”

       “Bullshit, Illya.”

        He didn’t meet her eyes but his hands twitched. She had him cornered.

       “Come on, either you tell me now or I listen in and figure it out myself.”

        Illya swallowed, “It’s mostly just curse words.”

        Gaby believed him. Only Napoleon and Illya would find that funny.

       “But what about when you talk to me? What are you saying?” Gaby crossed her arms.

        A frown appeared on his face as his cheeks burned, “Nothing important.”

       “Fine. I can always ask Napoleon.”

        Illya gave her a worried look, “No, don’t ask him.”

        Gaby frowned, “I have no choice unless you tell me.”

        His face hardened and before Gaby could react, Illya had leaned forward, his face inches from hers.

        She was about to push him away when he whispered softly, “Солнышко моё.”

        Gaby didn’t understand the words, but as Illya stood up and left the room, she felt like she didn’t need to in order to get the idea. She was already looking forward to their next lesson.

 


	3. Bloody Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 different scenes where Illya and Gaby teach each other some skill. 3 for Illya and 3 for Gaby.
> 
> Music: Sarah Smiles by Panic! at the Disco

* * *

 

       “I told you to keep your thumb on the outside.”

       With a bag of frozen peas pressed to her hand, Gaby glared at Napoleon, “I’m sorry, I was more worried about not getting shot.”

       Napoleon waved the wooden spoon he was holding, “Lucky we were there.”

       Gaby shifted in her spot on the counter as she glanced up at Illya. He stood in the doorway with his arms over his chest, his eyes lost in thought.

       It was true. Gaby would have died if Illya and Napoleon hadn’t have shown up when they did. She was lucky enough to land a punch on the guy in general, even if it did snap her thumb in the process. But when the guy pulled a gun out and pointed it at her forehead, she had completely froze. Gaby didn’t have any training in hand to hand combat, but honestly, she hadn’t truly needed it until then.

       “I need to learn how to defend myself,” Gaby grabbed the spoon from Napoleon and licked the sauce off of it.

       Napoleon glared at her when she handed it back to him, “But then Peril wouldn’t have a job.”

       Gaby snorted, “Ha ha very funny. I mean it though. I’m tired of you guys always having to save me.”

      “I’ll teach you,” Illya mumbled shortly.

       Napoleon and Gaby shared a surprised look before she replied, “Okay.”

 

 

       That evening, Illya and Gaby stood facing each other in Napoleon’s hotel room.

      “Why do we have to do this in my room?”

     “Because Waverly will kill us if we hand him another bill for broken furniture,” Illya traded a knife between his hands. Scoffing, Napoleon grabbed a bottle of whiskey before taking a seat on his bed.

     “Alright, what first?” Gaby placed her hands on her hips.

      Illya stood up straight, the knife pointed at Gaby, “Disarm me.”

      Gaby gave him an offended look, “That’s too easy.”

      Smiling, Illya stood completely relaxed, “We’ll see.”

      Gaby sneered before stepping forward quickly, her hand outreached. Illya easily avoided her and placed the blade to her neck.

     “Dead.”

      Gaby could hear the smirk in Illya’s voice. Rotating sharply, she jabbed her elbow into his gut. Illya took the insignificant blow and as she caught herself, he twisted one of her arms behind her back. Gaby released a whimper before shutting her mouth furiously.

     “Dead.”

      After he released her, Gaby stepped back and launched herself at him, the same tackle from their first night together in her mind. But Illya was prepared this time and as she slammed herself into his body, he steadied his feet and threw her over his shoulder, letting her slide down and hit the floor. Her body smacking the floor made an unpleasant sound and Napoleon raised his eyebrow at Illya in concern. Illya didn’t look phased.

      Groaning angrily, Gaby pushed herself into a sitting position, “Fuck Illya, this isn’t fair!”

     “You wanted to learn-”

     “Ugh, never mind. Let’s go again,” Gaby stood, shaking her limbs out heatedly.

      They continued for another hour before Gaby complained again, her body and ego bruised from Illya throwing her around.

      Illya was spotless as Gaby stood up, her hands rubbing her back, “You can’t use brute strength, you’re too small for that. You need to think of way to use my strength against me or find another alternative.”

      Huffing out a frustrated breath, Gaby growled as she ran at him again. Illya rolled his eyes as she leaped at him. He effortlessly picked her up and let her fall against the floor. But this time, Gaby let out a croaky whine and didn’t stand back up, her right hand cradling her left wrist. With a worried look, Napoleon placed his drink down and stood up.

     “Gaby?” Illya’s heart twisted as he knelt down, the knife forgotten next to him. He placed a concerned hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. He only caught her smile before she slammed him to the floor and scrambled onto his chest.

     With a wicked grin, Gaby held the knife to his throat, “Dead.”

      Illya snarled, “You got lucky.”

      Gaby gasped sarcastically, “But you said to use you against you.”

     “It doesn’t count. I meant to use my strength to your advantage.”

      Leering down at him, Gaby loved how flustered he looked, “Tsk, tsk. All’s fair in love and war, Kuryakin.”

      Illya’s cheeks blushed as she climbed off of him. Helping him up, Gaby handed him the knife back.

     “I need a drink. Let’s do this again tomorrow?”

      Illya nodded, ignoring the teasing faces from Napoleon.

  

       The next day, Gaby waited in Napoleon’s room. Compared to last time, she felt more prepared after chatting with Napoleon. While Illya had been out getting food, he had taught her some quick moves in secret and Gaby easily picked them up. She couldn’t wait to see Illya’s surprised face when she used them.

       After a few minutes, Illya and Napoleon walked into the room and took their usual spots.

       “I’ll let you try to disarm me again and then I’ll teach you some handy tricks. Ok?” Illya rolled his shoulders and neck before taking his place in front of Gaby.

       Smirking, Gaby muttered, “We’ll see about that.”

       Before Illya could reply, Gaby threw herself to his side and with Napoleon’s advice in mind, punched her fist into the spot where his shoulder connected with his arm. Illya didn’t react much as Gaby’s hand screamed in pain. He knocked her feet out from under her and she groaned as her butt hit the ground.

      “Did Cowboy teach you that?” Illya’s voice was disappointed.

       Standing quickly, Gaby threw her hands up, “Yes! But at least he taught me something! All you do is throw me around! I haven’t learned a thing from you! If this is how the KGB train their agents, then no wonder you’re fucked up!”

       Illya blocked the hurtful words, “Gaby, calm down.”

       Gaby let out a furious breath, “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

       Without thinking, Gaby propelled herself at him. She heard the knife clatter to the ground as she smacked his arm aside and threw a punch blindly. Gaby’s fist collided with some part of Illya and she heard a grunt. With her eyes closed, she tripped on her own feet and fell to the ground.

       Opening her eyes, Gaby looked up and saw Illya cradling his nose. Blood was leaking out from between his fingers and sliding down his chin to drip on the floor. Her anger dissipated rapidly.

       “Illya! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Gaby scrambled to her feet before calming herself. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to act worried. Her pride flared up at the thought of landing a hit on him.

       Napoleon appeared at her side and handed her a washcloth. With a weak grin, Gaby removed Illya’s bloody hands and placed the cloth against his nose. He winced slightly but stood still as Gaby tried to clean up all the blood covering his face. She ignored the agonizing throbbing in her hand as Illya rubbed some of the blood on his hands onto his jacket.

       “Nice punch,” Illya mumbled. Gaby couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not.

       “Yeah but I didn’t mean to do it.”

       “Doesn’t matter. Still a good hit. Remember to keep your eyes open.”

        Gaby bit her lip, trying not to smile proudly, “My hand hurts. But I did remember to keep my thumb on the outside.”

        Removing the cloth, Gaby could see his smile, “See? You are learning.”

        Illya ran a finger underneath his nose, sniffing up the last bit of blood. His chin and lips were still covered in the dried blood and Gaby had to admit, it was ridiculously attractive.

        “Ok, so now we know you’re a better fighter when you’re angry. Let’s use that.”

        This time, Illya patiently taught her step by step and soon enough, she could disarm him easily. Illya’s bloody smile was proud.

        The lessons didn’t come into use until later in the month while they were escaping an airport. All of three of them were rushing down the stairwell when a group of men intercepted them. Napoleon and Illya didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray but Gaby wavered before joining in.

         Almost immediately, a man had a hand wrapped around her throat as he fumbled to grab his knife. Gaby kicked against his body and as she began to run low on oxygen, she could barely make out the sound of Illya shouting her name. Swallowing thickly, Gaby calmed her mind and with her eyes wide open, she slammed her fist into the man’s throat. He choked loudly and dropped her instantly. Coughing lightly, Gaby clambered to her feet hurriedly and ripped the knife out of the man’s hand. She didn’t falter when she took the knife and stabbed it into his gut, the same way Illya had taught her. Releasing the blade, she watched him fall back.

         Letting her shoulders drop, Gaby heaved out a breath. Looking around the now quiet room, Gaby’s hands shook from the adrenaline rushing in her veins. She turned to Illya and Napoleon, who were unscathed and breathing evenly.

         Napoleon was grinning at her but a worried crease sat between Illya’s eyebrows. Realizing she had just used her training successfully, Gaby let out a short laugh and Illya’s shoulders relaxed. He watched a proud smile spread across her face and Illya thought she couldn’t get any more attractive, bloody hands and all.

 


	4. Car Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 different scenes where Illya and Gaby teach each other some skill. 3 for Illya and 3 for Gaby.
> 
> Music: La Vie en Rose by Daniela Andrade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dad taught me how to change the oil in my truck last year and I can honestly say that I hated it. Kudos to all the people who do that for a living.

* * *

 

       Returning from a long afternoon of boring surveillance on a supposed Nazi, Illya dragged his feet into Waverly’s hotel room to report all of his findings. It was late at night and he wasn’t expecting Waverly to be awake, but Illya really just wanted to get the mission over and done with. So, he knocked on his door and was shocked to hear Waverly respond inside.

       Once inside, Illya was even more surprised to find Napoleon in the room, already chatting quietly with Waverly. They both looked up with grim faces and in a split second, smiles were thrown on. Illya narrowed his eyes, almost too tired to wonder what they were keeping from him.

      “Ah, Kuryakin. How did surveillance go?” Waverly stood up as Napoleon poured himself a drink. Waverly’s yearning eyes wandered to the glass of scotch before he turned to Illya. Illya handed him the camera and a folder with descriptions of the day’s activities.

      “Uneventful. I made friends with a cat though. How did your mission go?”

       Napoleon looked up, not meeting his eyes, “Uh, pretty boring actually.”

        Illya nodded, “Where’s Gaby?”

       Waverly and Napoleon exchanged a look and Illya felt his stomach fill with anxiety.

       “Napoleon, where is Gaby?” He asked again.

       Waverly sighed, “She’s fine, Kuryakin. She’s in the garage.”

       Illya knew what that meant. When missions didn’t go well, Gaby disappeared underneath a car for hours at a time. Sometimes, she didn’t return all night if it was bad enough. Considering it was nearing midnight, it was probably turning into one of those times.

       “I’ll go check on her,” Illya mumbled as he turned back to the door. Napoleon and Waverly didn’t stop him.

        Making his way outside, Illya walked around the hotel until he reached the small building holding cars belonging to hotel visitors. Opening the door, Illya was bombarded by the stench of oil and gas. He followed the sound of clanging metal and stopped next to one of the cars Waverly had given them for the next couple of missions. Legs with oil stained pants covering them hung out from underneath the car.

       “You’re working late.”

        The noise from under the car ceased. Illya leaned against the side of the car, his back to Gaby.

       “I’m not in the mood, Illya.”

         Crossing his arms, Illya frowned, “You need to get some sleep.”

         He heard the roll of wheels as Gaby scooted out from underneath the car. Illya didn’t look over when Gaby stood up.

        “That’s easier said than done.”

         Gaby’s voice sounded drained. Tearing his gaze from the floor, Illya rotated to face her and dropped his arms. Oil was smudged across her cheeks and forehead and her hair was tied up in a messy bun, but all of that was normal. What made Illya tighten his hands to fists were the finger shaped bruises around her neck. Obviously her and Napoleon’s mission hadn’t run that well.

          Stepping over to her, Illya frowned deeply. Gaby shifted away from him, placing a wrench in an open toolbox. She messed around with her tools until she could no longer ignore Illya’s critical gaze.

          Turning to face him, Gaby sighed, “I’m fine, Illya. You don’t have to worry so much.”

          Illya shook his head as his hand reached out and barely brushed the marks lining her neck. His touches sent a shiver across Gaby’s body.

          Shutting her eyes, Gaby remembered the man’s hand around her neck before she was able to break loose. She wasn’t sure why the suffocating feeling she had endured was almost identical to how she felt when Illya looked at her. The same way he was now. 

          Catching her breath, Gaby moved away from him and turned back to the engine of the car. Reaching into the car, she fiddled around until she felt Illya stand next to her.

         “What are you doing?” His voice was gentle but curious.

          Gaby pulled her arm out, “Normal fixes. I actually need to change the oil.”

          She watched Illya raise an eyebrow, “Can you teach me?”

          With a soft grin, Gaby stepped away and grabbed the proper materials for the job. Illya took off his jacket, placing it on the propped hood of the car, and rolled up his sleeves. Gaby handed him a wrench and gloves before crawling under the car and placing a large bin in the exact spot where the oil would flow out of the car.

       “Alright,” Gaby rolled out from under the car and motioned for him to join her on the floor. Illya lowered himself down next to her and they scooted under the car together. With their shoulders crushed against each other, Gaby showed him how to remove the oil plug and let him wiggle it out. When the oil began to drain, Illya coughed at the smell and Gaby laughed lightly. As the oil drained, Gaby absentmindedly fiddled with the parts on the car and tried not pay attention to Illya’s eyes on her. His body radiated heat into hers and she could feel drowsiness set in. Her hands were beginning to grow heavy above her when the stream of oil ended.

       “Now, clean.”

       Gaby handed Illya a messy rag and with a growl, he began to clean around the opening. Once finished, she showed him how to replace the plug and they crawled out from under the car.

       Grabbing a new filter, Gaby made Illya stand next to her in front of the engine. Reaching her arm to the right spot, she instructed Illya to do the same thing. Their shoulders were pressed together as she showed him how to put the new filter on.

        Illya made it look easy and with a proud smirk, Gaby turned to compliment him. Instead, her breath was knocked out when he turned at the same time and their noses brushed.  

        Illya held his breath as he watched Gaby’s brown eyes widen. Feeling his heart race, Illya leaned forward to close the gap between them. With his eyes shut, he waited for her lips to touch his, but instead a strong scent filled his senses as Gaby rubbed her dirty hands across his cheeks.

        Opening his eyes, Illya found Gaby a step away from him, her eyes mischievous. Letting out a sigh, Illya tried to rub the oil off but it only spread farther down his face.

       With a frown, Illya mumbled, “Is that all?”

       Gaby’s laughter slowed, “Really? We haven’t put in any new oil yet.”

       Illya felt his face burn in embarrassment, “Ok, do you want me to do that?”

       Gaby grabbed a bottle of oil from the floor and handed it to him, “It’s not too hard, Peril.”

       Illya rolled his eyes as she showed him where to pour it.

      “Don’t stop until this is empty. It has the perfect amount for this car so you don’t have to worry about overflowing.”

       Illya nodded in understanding before Gaby moved away and took a seat on the floor. Feeling his body begging for sleep, Illya began to pour the new oil in and immediately grew annoyed with how slow the substance was. After a few minutes, the bottle was empty and Illya sighed in relief.

       Screwing the fill cap back on, Illya said, “All finished. Are we done now?”

       There was no answer.

       Worried, Illya set the empty bottle down quickly and moved around the car to where Gaby had sat down. Smirking to himself, Illya pulled off his gloves before kneeling down to where Gaby was curled up fast asleep, her hands pressed to her chest and his jacket draped over her body.

       After wiping some of the oil off his hands on a rag, Illya pushed a strand of hair out of her smudgy face. He was tempted to lie down next to her with how tired he was, but instead he lifted her into his arms and made his way out of the garage.

       Gaby never shifted as he climbed the stairs to her single room. Once in her room, Illya walked through the dark and placed her in the bed. Reminded of their mission months and months ago when he had first felt his heart twist painfully, Illya pulled the covers over her small body and smiled.

      “Good night little chop shop girl.”

 


	5. Kiss the Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 different scenes where Illya and Gaby teach each other some skill. 3 for Illya and 3 for Gaby.
> 
> Music: I'm Yours by Alessia Cara

* * *

 

       Illya was not the best cook. It was understandable considering he never had to worry about cooking food until his father was taken away and his mother fell into a depression. Even then, when he traveled through Russia as an orphan, he was fed. And when he joined the KGB not long after, he ate what was given to him even if it was not the best.

       It wasn’t until Illya was out on his first solo mission with limited money that he realized he had no clue how to cook anything. Without any time to teach himself, he lived off sandwiches and soup for years. When his missions brought in some extra money, he was able to eat a full meal at a restaurant but those times were too few and far between.

      So when Illya met Napoleon and Gaby and they placed a home cooked meal in front of him, Illya had to stop himself from devouring the food in seconds. For the few months since they had met, Illya happily ate the food they made and never gave it a second thought.

      That was until Gaby crawled her way into Illya’s heart and made herself at home. He now noticed the way she chewed on her lip while she chopped vegetables and how her eyes never left him when he took a bite of some German dish she had made. It was always the same response.

      “It’s good.”

      Gaby always grinned vibrantly and only then would take her seat next to him and begin to eat.

      After a few weeks of the same routine, Illya believed it was time for him to make something for her in return. The perfect opportunity came when Napoleon was sent out to do some simple mission, leaving Gaby and Illya alone in their room for the night.

      So that day, Gaby was lazily lounging in the other room in the late afternoon when Illya moved to the kitchen and began to gather his ingredients. Earlier in the day, he had gone out and retrieved all the ingredients he could remember for Stroganoff.

      Choosing the dish was quite easy. Illya had watched his mother make the meal multiple times in his childhood and he trusted his memory to remember how creamy and flavorful the sauce was. Also, it was fairly simple, if he recalled correctly.

      Grabbing the packages of steak he had picked up, Illya set them on the counter and stared down at the meat. All he had to do was cook it. He just wasn’t sure how to do that.

      Sighing, Illya turned away from the meat and decided to start on the sauce instead. Grabbing a package of butter, he placed it in a dish and put it in the microwave to melt it. As the microwave ran, he put a pan on the stove and turned the heat on.

      Slightly unsure and pacing the kitchen floor, Illya jumped when the butter popped loudly in the microwave. Stopping the machine, Illya opened the door and found the butter had splattered all over the inside of the microwave.

      “Fuck,” Illya mumbled to himself. Searching for something to place over the butter so it wouldn’t explode, Illya frustratingly pulled out a small piece of aluminum foil and placed it on the bowl. He shoved it back into the microwave and turned it back on.

      With a hand to his face, Illya began to slice the meat when the microwave buzzed angrily and smoke began to slide out of the machine.

      “Illya?” Gaby spoke up worriedly from the other room.

      Panicking, Illya stopped the microwave and opened the door. Inside, the foil was on fire and sparking lightly.

      “Holy shit! Illya!”

      Gaby had appeared in the kitchen and without hesitating, ran to the sink. Pushing a shocked Illya to the side, she threw water onto the miniature fire.

      “You put aluminum foil in the microwave? Are you crazy?”

      Flipping off the stove top, Gaby faced Illya with an eyebrow raised.

      “I-I was just…”

      Illya’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Gaby examined his rolled up sleeves and the meat on the counter.

      With a faintly shocked look, Gaby said, “Were you trying to make dinner?”

      Illya swallowed, “Trying.”

      Gaby let out a short laugh, “Have you ever cooked before, Illya?”

      Shaking his head, Illya didn’t meet her eyes. Gaby smirked before grabbing her apron from the hook on the door and tying it around her waist.

      “How about we do it together and I teach you?”

      “No, I-”

      “Too late, I’ve already decided I’m going to help. What were you planning on making?”

       Illya finally looked up and saw Gaby examining the small pieces of meat he had already cut.

      “Stroganoff.”

       Gaby scoffed, “Oh that’s easy.”

      “I did not ask for your help,” Illya hissed, his pride wounded.

      “Oh please, stop being such a piss-baby. Come here,” Gaby motioned to him with the knife in her hand. “Fill a pot with water and put it on the stove.”

       Illya rolled his shoulders before finding a pot and filling it with water. Gaby sliced the meat evenly and without difficulty as he turned the burner on.

       Handing him another knife, Gaby showed him how to slice the meat correctly, and they cut the meat in silence as they waited for the water to boil.

      “Alright, put all the meat in the water and when stuff rises to the top, use a spoon to remove it.” Gaby smiled as Illya tenderly dropped the pieces in to the bubbling water.

       Pouring herself a glass of wine, Gaby watched as Illya spooned off the excess fat from the meat. For such a simple task, he was heavily concentrated and after a particularly heavy sigh, he dropped the spoon in the water.

       Gaby laughed before helping him fish it out, “How can you take apart a gun in under five seconds and kill a man in the same time, but not be able to hold onto a spoon?”

       Illya glared at her but his eyes were too embarrassed to hold any heat.

       Once the meat was semi cooked, Gaby strained it with Illya lingering over her shoulder. She placed it in the pan he had gotten out earlier and pulled some spices out of the cupboard.

       Illya smiled when she couldn’t reach the top shelf. Stretching effortlessly from behind her, Illya grabbed the small container and failed at ignoring the way her back felt against him.

      “Thank you,” Gaby’s voice was quiet when she moved away from him.

       Talking as she worked, Gaby showed Illya the spices she was adding to the meat before she placed a lid on the pan.

      “And now we wait until the meat is all the way cooked,” Gaby patted her hands together and grabbed her wine glass.

        Illya wasn’t sure what to do, “For how long?”

      “Hour? Maybe an hour and a half. Give or take.”

       Gaby plopped onto the couch in the other room and sipped her wine casually. Illya clenched and relaxed his fists before taking a seat in front of his chessboard.

       The time passed slowly, and when Gaby stood up to turn off the timer, Illya followed her closely. Gaby inspected the meat with a smile and made Illya grab the whipping cream and garlic.

      “Don’t you need to measure it?” Illya asked as Gaby added a random amount of garlic and cream to the pan.

      “Nah, that makes it too easy.”

       With a grin, Gaby showed Illya how to properly melt butter by placing a paper towel over the bowl. She emphasized heavily on not using aluminum foil and Illya blushed again. Heaving out a small bag of flour, Gaby added the melted butter and flour to the pan and stirred it in.

      “There, now we wait another half hour and it’ll be done.”

       Illya’s eyebrows rose, “That easy?”

       Gaby covered the pan with a lid and turned to him, “That easy, Peril.”

       Grinning at his small frown, she turned to put away the flour in the cupboard above them. Pausing on her tiptoes, Gaby watched as Illya peeked underneath the lid to look at the simmering food; his eyebrows squeezed together in concentration. Gaby bit her lip at the sight.

       The infamous Red Peril had tried to cook for her and had nearly blown up the microwave in the process. How could this man, the one fascinated by a simple recipe, be the same man who terrified her that first time in Berlin?

       Stifling a chuckle, Gaby stuck her fingers in the flour and flicked it at Illya. The powder was aimed perfectly and it hit the side of Illya’s face, shading him in white.

       Standing up straight, Illya tried to wipe the flour away but it only spread across his cheek. He scowled at Gaby but his blue eyes were playful.

       Gaby had barely taken a step back when he reached over and stuck his hand in the bag. With a clump of the flour in his palm, Illya tossed it and it exploded in Gaby’s stunned face.

       Gasping, Gaby pulled out more flour and threw it at Illya in retaliation. Dodging the white mass, Illya moved in front of Gaby and with both hands in the flour, he drew out two handfuls and dropped them over her head.

       It was a free for all after that; both of them frantically digging their hands into the flour. Gaby didn’t hold back when she threw more of the flour at Illya and he rubbed the powder into her hair and face.

       Soon the kitchen was covered in the flour and with her bare feet, Gaby slipped and fell to the floor. Illya let out a chuckle before Gaby pulled him down with her. Crawling over to him, Gaby poured the rest of the bag over his head. Sitting still, Illya closed his eyes as the flour collected on his head and shoulders.

       Scooting in between his knees, Gaby laughed gently as her hands wiped the powder from his face.

       When his eyes finally opened, the blue contrasted the white of the flour strikingly and Gaby quieted. Illya’s grin fell from his face as Gaby’s hands stilled on his cheek.

       Leaning forward, Illya stopped an inch from her lips and observed the flour caught in her dark eyelashes. He felt her let out a breath before she pressed her mouth to his. Her lips tasted of flour and wine and Illya knew he would never get enough of it.

       Her hands were twisted in his hair when they heard the hotel door open. Leaping away from each other, they were on their feet by the time Napoleon stepped into the kitchen.

       “Holy shit, what happened here?”

       Gaby patted her hands against her apron, “Illya tried to cook.”

       “Jesus, Peril. Maybe I need to give you some cooking lessons.”

       Napoleon didn’t miss the small smile shared between Gaby and Illya. Nor the large white handprint on Gaby’s ass.  

       Smirking, Napoleon pointed at Gaby as she turned to look at the food, “Really, Peril? You’re supposed to be a professional and yet you leave your finger prints behind?”

       Illya blushed before exiting the room, leaving a confused Gaby and a pleased Napoleon behind.

 


	6. Bad Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 different scenes where Illya and Gaby teach each other some skill. 3 for Illya and 3 for Gaby.
> 
> Music: Fun by Pitbull ft. Chris Brown

* * *

 

       “You should marry that chessboard.”

        Looking up, Illya watched as Gaby danced past him, the light glinting off her sunglasses. She skirted around the chair he was in and managed to run her hand across his head, ruining his hair.

        “We should order food.”

         Illya glared at her, “You’re drunk.”

         Freezing in her current dance position, Gaby’s bug eyed sunglasses turned to look at him, “And you’re not.”

         Illya picked up his glass, “I take it slow.”

         With an evil smile, Gaby threw herself into his lap, tossing her legs over the armrest. Some of Illya’s drink splashed onto his neck when Gaby’s elbow collided with his arm.

        “Why drink if you’re not aiming to get drunk?” She patted the spot where the alcohol had soaked into his collar before licking the drops off his throat.

        “Gaby,” Illya warned. He wasn’t sure if this was an invitation or not, but he did know that she was drunk and not capable of thinking straight. Granted, they had made out a few times since their first kiss last week, but Gaby always pulled away early with a teasing grin. It was killing Illya. Every girl he’s ever had a relationship with has never been able to get him aroused in so little time. He just can’t trust himself with a drunk Gaby.

          Twisting on his lap like nothing happened, Gaby leaned toward the chessboard, “Do you only know how to play chess?”

          Reaching around her waist, Illya moved a piece, “What else is there to play?”

          Gaby shifted in his lap, making him grind his teeth, “Like cards? Or something?”

          Illya closed his eyes, “No.”

          Turning so she faced him with her knees on either side of his hips, Gaby stretched her arms around his neck, “Really? I could teach you poker or blackjack. Napoleon has taken me gambling enough so I know all the rules.”

           Illya swallowed as Gaby sipped her drink. Pushing her glasses up onto her head, Illya’s hands stilled on her neck as she smirked down at him. Inclining forward, Illya hurriedly moved his mouth to her collarbone before her hand pushed him back.

           “You need more to drink.”

           Gaby crawled off him and Illya was about to scold her when the hotel door opened. Napoleon strolled through, a beautiful girl on his arm.

           Gesturing to them, Napoleon announced, “I told you they would be here.”

           The girl giggled as Gaby’s sunglasses fell down over her eyes and Illya sat rigid, still in shock from Gaby’s teasing.

           Napoleon glanced between them with an odd look, “Anyway, we were wondering if you guys were up for some strip poker.”

           Gaby rotated quickly to Illya, a smile plastered to her face, “We were just talking about that.”

           Illya shook his head, “No.”

           Gaby nodded, “Yes, we will play.”

          “Good, I’ll set up the table. This is Camilla, by the way.” Napoleon moved to grab the table from the kitchen.

           Shaking the woman’s hand, Gaby grinned drunkenly as she used her favorite cover name, “I’m Ellie. And this is Niko.”

           Illya stood up and Camilla took a step back, her hand on her chest, “Oh, William didn’t say how tall you were.”

           Memorizing Napoleon’s cover name, Illya replied, “I’m sure he didn’t. Nice to meet you. Ellie, can I speak with you?”

           Illya touched Gaby’s elbow urgently. Smiling politely, Gaby followed him to the other room. Illya turned the moment they were out of eyesight, making Gaby bump into his chest.

          “No. I’m not doing this,” Illya whispered hastily.

          “Now Niko, I can teach you the rules. It’s not hard.”

          Illya breathed out his nose, “I don’t want to play.”

          Gaby sipped her drink, “Are you saying you don’t want to see me shirtless?”

          Illya clenched his jaw as Gaby returned to the other room, her voice sweet when she apologized to Camilla. Grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet, Illya took a couple shots before pulling his chair over to the table placed in the middle of the room.

          Gaby scooted next to him as Napoleon shuffled the cards fancily. Camilla watched in fascination and Napoleon glanced at her between shuffles, his eyes sultry.

          After pouring everyone a drink, Gaby fixed her sunglasses, “I’m going to help Niko. He’s not very good at poker.”

         “Oh I wouldn’t mind if he lost,” Camilla’s eyes ran over Illya.

          Napoleon rapidly pulled her attention back to him as he dealt the cards to everyone.

          Taking a deep breath, Gaby shifted as she glanced at her given cards. It was complete crap. Throwing all of them back, Gaby gestured for a new hand.

         “Ga-Ellie,” Illya muttered as Camilla giggled at something Napoleon said. Gaby turned to him and looked at his cards. A royal flush made her eyes widen. Luckily the glasses hid her true expression as Gaby gave Illya a fake frown.

          “Put it all back.”

          “I thought-”

          Gaby placed his cards down, “Nope, bad hand.”

          Illya picked up his new cards and Gaby watched him come up with absolutely nothing.

         Grinning to herself as they all showed their cards, Gaby took a shot when Illya lost the round and he took off his shoes. Fortunately, Camilla didn’t question the knife he pulled out of his sock and placed next to his shoes. Three more rounds passed and Illya lost all of them. His belt and socks joined the pile before he untucked his shirt from his pants.

        “Oh, maybe you’re not a good teacher, Ellie?” Camilla placed her chin in her palm as Illya removed his shirt, her eyes wandering across his chest.

        “Luck of the cards,” Gaby shrugged as Illya and Napoleon glared at her. Illya because he had yet to see her lose any clothes and Napoleon because Camilla was growing more interested in the Russian’s toned body.

        The next round, Napoleon wrote down the main winning hands on a piece of paper and handed it to Illya. Illya glanced at Gaby when he recognized the royal flush from his first hand.

       “No offense, Ellie, but your lessons aren’t getting him anywhere,” Napoleon smiled nicely but his eyes were frustrated. Gaby sighed and downed her drink. She was ready to actually play this time.

        Throwing down a four of a kind, Illya beat them all in the following round and Napoleon was forced to removed his shoes. He was beginning to realize that he had worn too many clothes. It would take too many rounds for him to lose every piece of his fancy suit. He was going to have to resort to getting someone fully naked so the entire game would be over. Illya was out of the question considering Camilla might leap on him if his pants came off. Camilla herself was a possibility but her clothes were made of little parts that could be taken off individually.

        That left Gaby. It was perfect. She sat in her two piece pajamas without socks or shoes. He could get her showing tons of skin in two hands and hopefully, she had decided not to wear underwear tonight. It would end quickly and Napoleon could have Camilla to himself. He just had to hope that the cards worked with him.

        Dealing out the next round, Napoleon watched in horror as Camilla won and Illya lost. Gaby snorted into her drink as Illya stood up and slid his pants off. Camilla whistled softly before Illya sat back down in nothing but his underwear.

       “Nice scars,” Camilla muttered, her body leaning towards Illya. Napoleon hurriedly shuffled the cards to grab her attention but Gaby beat him to it.

       “Oh you should see William’s. This is nothing. William looks like he was painted by a god.”

       Gaby waved uninterestingly at Illya and met Napoleon’s eyes. His look was relieved as Camilla turned to him. Illya chugged his drink next to Gaby before pouring another glass and downing it as well.

      “Let’s play,” Illya set his glass down forcefully as Napoleon dealt the cards.

       To Napoleon’s dismay, Gaby held her own and got Camilla and himself to lose the next couple of rounds. Illya managed to win more and more and Gaby began to grow nervous.

       On the next hand, Gaby sighed when Illya won again and her cards were the worst. Ignoring Camila’s cheers, Gaby stood up and pulled down her pants, making sure to bump her hip against Illya’s arm. He didn’t move away but she saw his fist clench.

       Napoleon grinned, “Any underwear on, Ellie?”

       Lifting the corner of her shirt to show black underwear, Gaby smiled when Illya looked away hurriedly.

       More time passed and soon a drunk Camilla was shirtless and Napoleon didn’t have anything on below his waist. Gaby rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness. He really wanted Camilla apparently. Illya was obviously intoxicated, considering the amount of vodka he had consumed, but somehow he still managed to win most of the games.

       Glancing at the cards in front of her, Gaby held in a smile when she saw a straight flush. She was going to get Illya on this round.

      “Alright, show your cards,” Napoleon said nervously.

       Gaby flipped her cards proudly as she watched Napoleon and Camilla have nothing special in their hands. Her face dropped when she saw a royal flush laid out in front of Illya.

      “Okay Ellie, lose the shirt or the underwear.”

Napoleon watched Illya shift in his seat. He was looking forward to seeing his reaction when Gaby chose which article of clothing to take off.

        Biting her lip, Gaby was growing tired of the game. Removing her shirt, Gaby watched as Napoleon let out a chuckle at her bare chest. Camilla clapped and complimented her breasts. Illya peeked at her before he hastily looked away, his face red.

       “One more round and Ellie loses,” Napoleon smiled as he dealt out the cards.

        Knowing she had Illya, Gaby purposely chose the worst hand and when she laid them out at the end, she was happy to see him swallow thickly.

       “Aww Ellie!” Camilla laughed as Gaby moved to remove her underwear.

         Illya stood abruptly, making everyone freeze, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

         Walking swiftly, Illya crossed the room in record time and shut the bathroom door behind him. Camilla shared a worried look with Gaby and Napoleon.

         Standing, Gaby crossed her arms over her chest, “I think he drank too much. I’ll go check on him.”

         Napoleon winked at Gaby, “Well since you lost, we’ll be off then.”

         After an eager Napoleon and drunk Camilla left the room, Gaby strolled over to the bathroom and found the door unlocked. Opening it slowly, Gaby located Illya in front of the sink and leaned against the counter next to him.

         His voice was deep, “You made me lose on purpose.”

        “Or I’m just a bad teacher,” Gaby trailed her fingers across his waist. She caught his eyes in the mirror and didn't have time to prepare herself when he yanked her onto the counter. His mouth slammed into hers and Gaby moaned when he slid her underwear off chaotically.

        The exchange was fiery and frantic with neither of them lasting more than a couple minutes. After Gaby slumped against his shoulders, Illya could barely stand with his shaky knees.

        Heaving deep breaths, Illya uttered into her neck, “Next time I teach you chess.”

 

 


End file.
